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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22520038">Uncoil</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka'>yeaka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Salvation (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blow Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Spoilers, Vignette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:00:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>799</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22520038</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Darius takes a load off under the president’s desk.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harris Edwards/Darius Tanz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Uncoil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I don’t own Salvation or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One of the nice things about being both president <i>and</i> retaining control of the largest electronics company in the world is that Darius knows exactly where the security cameras are in the oval office. He knows which angles work for him and which are mildly less flattering, and he knows the minor blind spots. Maybe it would be smarter to make sure he was slotted into one of those spaces before getting down onto his knees, but then, it’s not like he can’t get his hands on the footage and scrub it clean before anyone else sees it.</p><p>Maybe his own staff will see it first. Maybe they actually pay attention to what’s on the monitors. Maybe Liam will hit the right buttons and access it from the treehouse. Somehow, those possibilities don’t sent Darius running for the hills. They just snake a shiver down his spine and make his cock pulse in his palm. He wonders idly if Harris realizes those risks. But then, Harris has his president’s mouth wrapped around his dick, so he shouldn’t have anything to complain about. </p><p>He finds things anyway. He threads his fingers back through Darius’ short hair and gives it a little tug, trying to punish Darius when his dull teeth scrape the underside a little too harshly. Darius hums his apologies around his mouthful. It’s been too long since he last sucked dick. It’s usually been the other way around of late, given his fame and fortune, and he used to love that—he used to be <i>all about</i> the power trip. Then that power mounted up so high that every little thing’s become a chore—every second of every day packed with more <i>stress</i> than he knows what to do with. He’s not inventing solutions for his own fun and clout anymore—now he <i>has</i> to save the world, because all eyes are on him.</p><p>It’s nice to have a break from that, to not be <i>the president of the United States</i>, not admired but held down—just another horny idiot desperately wanting to get off before the end comes. Harris hisses, “<i>Mr. President</i>—” but a few sucks later he forgets the title and just groans, “<i>Darius.</i>”</p><p>That’s what Darius wants. He wants Harris to keep looking down at him like he’s a hot piece of ass and nothing more. No pressure. No expectations. No titles and offices he didn’t ask for. He respects that about Harris. They’ve always had their differences, but he’s always been able to <i>trust</i> Harris to be true. To do the right thing. To hold him up. He didn’t quite think this is where their relationship was going, but it’s not like Darius can call up professionals or sneak out to parties anymore. He only has a handful of people around him. He loves Grace, but she’s got enough going on, has better things to do, and can’t <i>use</i> him like he wants. Harris was just <i>there</i>, tall and taut and ridiculously handsome, like a gorgeous stallion waiting to be ridden. It was too easy to goad him into it. He snapped as quickly as Darius’ belt buckle. He thrusts into Darius’ mouth like there’s nowhere he’d rather be, and Darius humps his own hand as he chokes on his Secretary of Defense’s dick. Maybe he really should make Harris his Vice President. Harris has definitely earned it. </p><p>Harris almost bucks forward but stops himself mid-movement, holding strong again. So <i>sturdy</i>. No wonder Grace had a fling with him. Maybe they should all get together sometime and find out just what Harris is capable of. </p><p>He stiffens, going suddenly rigid, hissing through his teeth. Darius knows what’s coming and moans for it. He buries himself to the hilt, shoves right against Darius’ base and relaxes his throat. It bursts in his mouth and splatters his insides, dripping right down the back of his tongue. Darius reflexively swallows. He doesn’t choke, so maybe it hasn’t been too long after all. The sound Harris makes is absolutely sinful. </p><p>That and the salty taste of Harris’ cum is enough to finish Darius’ off—he splatters his own hand but tries to block it from painting the carpet. Shooting both hands around his throbbing cock, he pumps himself out and catches all the mess. He stays around Harris while he does it, not daring to move until he’s spent and boneless. Then he slowly withdraws, letting Harris’ flagging cock drag seed and spit past his fucked-swollen lips. </p><p>Harris looks down at him and mutters, “Holy shit.”</p><p>Darius licks his lips just for show. Taking the obvious awe as a complement, he murmurs, “Thank you, Mr. Secretary.”</p><p>Harris rolls his eyes and snorts. Darius decides to maybe give him just a <i>few</i> more test runs before bestowing another promotion.</p>
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